


tear you apart

by aquaexplicit



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blackmail, Blowjobs, Cisco's Self Worth Issues, Coercion, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Len's Everything Issues, Light breathplay, M/M, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Season 1, Victim Blaming, ropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 18:04:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16045739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: Cisco’s chest is still more open than Len has seen in years, and sometimes, Len is his father’s son. Sometimes, he wants to hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it.





	tear you apart

**Author's Note:**

> this was saved in my drafts as coldvibe trash because that's what it is. len is a no good, terrible, villainous villain. cisco is caught up in his villainy. please read tags.

There are cuffs in Len’s smash and go bag. He brings it with him everywhere, in case something or someone too valuable to pass up happens along his path. Cisco could probably work in them. Less talented hands have trembled through Len’s requests in the handcuffs before.

But the visceral appeal of thick rope, wrapped around Cisco’s graceful wrists, holding his hands slack but in place, is more than Len can resist. Not that he really tried to. One of the benefits of living on his side of the line. Temptations, when they arise, are nothing that inspire guilt. They're rare and deep enough for Len that he cuts his teeth with them as soon as he has the hunger.

Len also doesn't know if Cisco would've had the same reaction to cold, callous steel clacking around his too soft skin. Cisco's breath might not have caught in his throat the way it did when Len stepped in close to coil the rope around him. There might not have been the same summer spiked adrenaline that made his heart hammer under Len’s palm when Len brushed his chest. The blood that rushed to Cisco's cheeks may have remained stagnant.

Cisco's body squirms and aches the same way it did the first time as Len refastens the rope. Len’s chords are struck again at how cute the kid is - pretty, really, with his clear eyes and miles of cinnamon skin. Decadent, even, with the rope snaked around his wrists, with his lips parted and eyes lust black. He's strung tight at being bound by Len’s hands and power.  

Len could soak in the look of him, and that could be enough. Would be, if loveliness and humiliation were the only virtues Cisco possessed. But Cisco is as smart as he is sweet. He's a genius, and he's genuine, and far too trusting.

Mostly, though, the kid is good. He shines with it. Len has watched him long enough to recognize that there is darkness below the surface, but it’s the simple kind. It’s pettiness and it’s anger and it’s quick snaps of irritation. Nothing that doesn’t lurk in other gentle hearts. Cisco’s chest is still more open than Len has seen in years, and sometimes, Len is his father’s son. Sometimes, he wants to hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it.

And really, Len would be doing Cisco a favor by pushing his thighs open while holding those bound, clever hands above his head. By teaching him a valuable lesson about falling into smiles that seem too shiny to be true.

Len is almost finished securing Cisco’s hands. The rope had gotten loose as Cisco finished off Lisa’s new gun. Len thought it best to drag Cisco to the room he’s been sleeping in to fasten them tight again.

Cisco shifts against the wall. He’s been squirmy but quiet, good, all under the threat of what Lisa and Mick will do to his big brother if he so much as breathes to Len’s annoyance. It’s clear that calm isn’t easy for Cisco. He keeps clenching his jaw. Curling and uncurling his fingers. Len wants to help him work off the energy.

When Len tightens the final knot, Cisco bites his lip and breathes through his nose. He thinks it's over.

“Careful, kid,” Len warns, voice light. “I said no moving.”

Cisco glares. “I’m not.”

Len can’t help but laugh. There's a whine in Cisco's throat, despite his bravado, and his eyes glint with all of the terror of want. Everything about Cisco, like this, draws out the worst of Len's intentions.

Len pulls harsher at the rope, just to make Cisco flinch. Cisco flinches. His breath speeds, too, and Len's smile spreads wider.

“Ah,” Len warns. “You’ve been so well behaved up until now. Don’t you want to keep it up?”

Cisco glares under the gentle curl of his lashes. They look as thick and soft as Len imagines Cisco's thighs. “You don’t want to hear what I want,” Cisco hisses.

Len tips his head back into the same chuckle Cisco inspired with his vacuum cleaner.

“Surprise me, kid.”

Cisco’s fingers slide into fists. “A little looser on the ropes, for starters.” 

Len allows his amusement to flow through his hands. He grips Cisco’s chin between his fingers, indulging in the shift of Cisco’s body against his own. Cisco tries to tilt away. Len holds him tighter, clucking his tongue.

“Now, now, Cisco. Don’t be a bad sport. You’d be tempted to run away if I went easy on you. And I’m not done with you yet.”

Cisco makes a soft, hurt noise when Len spreads his fingers to hold him by the jaw. It seeps into Len like something warm.

“There’s nothing else I can do for you,” Cisco says, desperation finally breaking through his throat. “I’ve made your guns, okay. What else could you want from me?” 

The Flash’s identity, for one thing. But it's not the only thing Len is lusting after. They're on a little more of a time crunch than Len anticipated. He didn't count on Lisa asking for her own weapon, and the scarlet nuisance that will eventually come to snatch Cisco away is fast. Len can’t take the time he wants to find what could make Cisco dance underneath him, squirm and cry and empty every sweet sound he has into Len’s sharpened mouth. 

Fortunately, Len thinks they have enough time for this. 

He strokes his thumb over Cisco’s jaw, watching with heat in his belly as Cisco tries desperately not to be lured by the softness of the touch. Cisco looks away, quick, and Len wonders how long this poor kid has been starved for skin. 

Smiling, meaning it, Len leans closer. “I think there’s plenty you could do for me. Plenty I could do for you, too.”

“Like letting me go?” Cisco asks. His voice hitches, higher pitched, and Len feels him try to sink further into the wall.

“I’m generous,” Len whispers just above Cisco’s ear. Goosebumps bloom along Cisco's skin. “But not that generous.” 

“Is this where I’m supposed to ask how generous are you?”

Len tumbles his laugh into the crook of Cisco's neck. Cisco goes still. Stops breathing. As if his quiet will hide him from Len's violent, hungry whims. It's not nearly enough to dissuade Len or dilute the want that thrums through him, simmering and simmering and simmering. To show Cisco just how sweetly ineffective his struggles are, Len licks the soft shell of his ear. 

Only for Cisco to shove him with bound hands. The force of it surprises Len. There’s strength there, soldered with the rage Len has seen tugging tight under Cisco’s skin.

“Don’t touch me,” Cisco says. His voice is barely above a rasp, above a whisper. His eyes are wet wide, cartoonish, utterly horrified, and Len knows it's not just the wet drag of his tongue that has Cisco trembling. It's the wrongness of it all, and how good the wrongness feels. 

Len laments the lack of time. He can't unravel Cisco's carefully woven thread bite by bite. Can't test how much Cisco can feel and swallow and take or where he'd have to touch Cisco, taste him, to make him beg for more. 

But it's better to take some cheap advantage instead of no advantage of the opportunity at all. Len spreads his hands in faux surrender.

“Fine. I’ll just let Mick and Lisa know exactly how uncooperative you’ve been.” 

Cisco’s tied hands flutter in front of himself, outstretched and desperate. “No.” 

“Don’t. No.” Len tilts his head. “You’re pretty pushy for a hostage, you know that?”

“And you’re a dick.” 

This time, when Len crowds back into Cisco’s space, he grips the ropes holding Cisco’s wrists together, raising them over Cisco’s head. Cisco clenches his jaw and jostles, an automatic and token struggle that's as cute as it is empty in intention. There's no further protest, except Cisco's refusal to look Len in the eye.

When Cisco remains still for several moments, Len tests Cisco's loyalty by pressing a gentle kiss to Cisco's jaw. Cisco only breathes. 

“Good, kid,” Len praises, smiling.

He's sure Cisco would put up more of a fight if Len hadn't sliced straight at the jugular. He wishes again he would've won the coin toss to be Cisco bait instead of Lisa - he would've enjoyed seducing Cisco in that bar, luring him here, and he would've taken more than a kiss. There's little time for seduction now, for the triumph of picking Cisco apart slowly.

Len soothes his irritation with Cisco's skin. Keeping one hand curled around the rope keeping Cisco tied, holding it and Cisco's arms taut above Cisco's head, Len runs his others knuckles along Cisco’s jaw, his neck, settling with his thumb in the hollow between Cisco’s collar bones. Cisco shudders.

“Just keep being good for me, and you and your brother will get out of here safe and sound." 

“You can't be serious,” Cisco breathes. “Why would you - is this some sort of weird punishment thing for trying something with your sister? I'm sorry. I'll stay away from her. You don't have to - ”

“You're right,” Len interrupts, annoyed. “I don't have to do anything.” He lets his thumb settle firm over Cisco's Adam’s apple. Presses in and watches absolutely enthralled as Cisco swallows and straightens his spine, unintentionally arching into Len’s touch. “I don't have to make this good for you, Cisco. I don't have to be nice.”

The pressure of Len's thumb coaxes a hurt, breathy whine from Cisco's throat. His mouth drops open, warm, inviting, daring, like a work of art hung just within snatching distance. 

“Don't you want me to be nice, kid?”

When Cisco doesn't answer, Len dips forward, licking at Cisco's top lip. The flick of flesh tastes as good as Cisco's little inhale.

Pleased, Len makes sure his lips brush Cisco's with his next words. “Or do you want me to show you how mean I can be? Is that what you like?” 

Len pulls the rope higher, digs his thumb deeper into Cisco's windpipe. Cisco rises on his tiptoes to relieve the burn but it only serves to stretch him more open.

“Please,” Cisco says tightly. 

Len wonders if he really means it. He removes his touch from Cisco's throat, smiling to himself when Cisco's head falls back against the wall with a thump and a grimace. While Cisco catches his breath, Len slips his fingers down Cisco's shirt. Cisco takes a sharp breath when Len strokes the fabric over his belly, as if Len punched him in the soft flesh instead of stroked sweetly over it.

“I’m doing it like this for you, you know,” Len says, dipping his touch underneath Cisco’s shirt. Cisco trembles. “You can pretend you don’t want it. That you’re just doing this to be a good brother. Not that you’ve been hoping for it since I got my hands you.” 

Cisco tries to lie, tries to shudder. “I haven't.” 

Len tsk’s. He slips his touch from Cisco’s fluttering stomach to between his legs. Cisco breathes the prettiest, most shocked noise when Len palms the blood hot hardness in Cisco’s jeans.

“Thought you were gonna be good?” Len licks over a sweet little mole that stands dark on Cisco’s marbled throat. “It’s not good to lie, Cisco.” 

It’s cute, the way Cisco scrunches his face at the next drag of Len’s tongue. The way he tries not to hump his hips into Len’s touch like the desperate, pretty thing he is. The way he tries to bite his lip and stop his moan when Len rubs him with expert pressure.

Len slips his tongue between Cisco’s lips and his fingertips beneath Cisco’s pants. Cisco doesn't kiss back. He does make a sound pinned between distress and debauchery and Len drinks it greedily. 

Cisco tenses when Len brings both hands to unbutton Cisco's jeans. Len ignores it in favor of working Cisco's enticingly tight jeans and briefs - black with little multicolored skulls, adorable - to the middle of Cisco's thighs.

For a moment, all Len does is stare. Cisco is hard, cock flushed dark with blood, and shiny with a drop of already leaking precome. Len licks his lips in genuine anticipation. 

“You’re just pretty everywhere, aren't you?” Len asks. 

He runs his fingertips along Cisco's dick. Cisco releases a deep, shuddering moan, and immediately turns is head into the wall, embarrassed. 

Len chuckles. “Look at you. Wet for me already.” Cisco has the audacity to shake his head, as if he can deny it even as his want drizzles over the finger Len is rubbing over the sticky damp slit of his cock. Cisco's hips rock helplessly into the touch. “So desperate for it. Should I be flattered? Or are you this slutty for everyone?”

Cisco jerks himself back. He glares through lust blown pupils, anger flushing his cheeks alongside the heat and humiliation. Gorgeous and begging to be stolen away, just like every other pricey, beautiful thing Len will never have.

“Fuck you,” Cisco spits.

Len moves quickly. He slips one hand around Cisco's throat, the other around Cisco's dick, and squeezes. Cisco goes ice under his fingers.

“If we had the time,” Len teases, thrilled at the way Cisco's eyes widen and his pulse trips. “For now, I think I'll just settle for you sucking me.”

He releases Cisco, then gives Cisco a few moments to cough and collect himself. When Len puts his hands on Cisco's shoulders, urging him silently to his knees, Cisco falls with grace.

It's a good look, Cisco on his knees. He stares at Len through his lashes. There's so much loathing beneath his surface Len tastes it when he inhales. The acidity quickens Len's fingers as he unzips his own jeans. Cisco watches him, tongue caught between his lips, most likely unaware that he looks like a starving man. 

“Like what you see?” Len asks.

He pumps himself a few times, sweeping his thumb over the head, giving the kid a show he seems entirely entranced by. Len briefly entertains the idea of spilling over Cisco's face instead of down Cisco's throat, but he wants to sink into that smart mouth too badly to hold back.

Len takes a fistful of Cisco's hair, holding him still while he guides his cock to brush over Cisco's lips. Cisco turns his head. It slides Len across the soft warm of Cisco's cheek. As good as it feels, as good as it looks to leave a slippery trail over Cisco's face, it's not what he wants. Len yanks his hair until he hisses, hurt. 

“Remember what I said, Cisco? About being good? Is your pride really worth your brother losing some fingers?” 

Cisco's hands spring, fingers curling into Len's open jeans. Len stares down at him, gaze falling to the tip of Cisco's dick, still plump between his legs.

“Don't hurt him.” Len doesn't know if Cisco thinks he's begging or demanding. “I'll be - I'll do whatever you want. Just please. Please don't hurt him.” 

Len cups Cisco's cheek with the hand not in Cisco's hair. “I won't, if you keep being sweet for me. Can you do that?” 

Cisco closes his eyes. “Yes, you - ” Len pulls his hair in warning. He doesn't finish the insult obvious on his tongue. “Yes, okay. Yes. I'll be good for you.” 

Actually hearing Cisco say the words is so good, Len can't tease himself any longer. Cisco, for his part, puts his words where his mouth is and spreads his lips for Len to fuck shallowly inside.

They both groan. Cisco's is quieter, thinner with shame, but Len doesn't miss it. He smiles and watches Cisco squeeze his eyes shut, even as he adjusts to take Len deeper. 

Len wasn't sure Cisco would even know what he's doing, but after a few thrusts of Cisco adjusting to breathing through his nose, Cisco gives himself over. He sucks Len in on the next thrust, cheeks hollowing obscenely, and when Len pulls out, Cisco rubs his tongue along the underside of Len's dick.

It's not the best Len's had - there's no enthusiasm, and Cisco's hands aren't free to stroke Len's skin - but Cisco's soft, choked moans and the wet hot good of his mouth is enough to make Len's knees feel brittle. He pumps in deeper and deeper, thrilled through his bones as Cisco just takes it, tears forming crystalline in his eyes. 

“Christ, kid. That's good. Knew you would be.”

Len let's his head fall back when Cisco bobs forward, sucking hard, obviously trying to speed the process along. Len doesn't even mind, especially when Cisco pulls away to let spit gather on the tip of his tongue, only to lap it over Len's already dripping cock. He opens his eyes to watch Cisco swallow him. 

“You really are a slut, aren't you baby?” Len says, hot with the cruelty and the way Cisco whimper whines at the words. “Is that how you got so damn good at this? Spend a lot of time on your knees for that boss of yours? Your little scarlet friend?”

The thought of Cisco on his knees for them both shocks Len hotter and swirls something ugly in his gut. He doubts there's truth in his taunt, especially when Cisco makes an angry noise and narrows his eyes, glaring. Len pets his hair, his cheek, movements soothing while his laugh mocks. 

Len sinks both hands into Cisco's soft hair, watching it stain his fingers silky and black. He sighs into the next pass Cisco's tongue makes over his skin.

“I guess it doesn't really matter,” Len breathes, using his grip to pull Cisco further onto his cock. He presses so deep, Cisco instinctively tries to pull back, but Len's fingers hold him still and good and perfect. Cisco's lashes clump dark as his eyes wet. “You're mine right now, aren't you? Just mine.” 

He speaks softly, a juxtaposition against every harsh snap of his hips. Cisco keeps up beautifully, obscenely. Spit and the stretch of Len's dick have painted Cisco's mouth a filthy red. There's slick sweat and tears making Cisco's face shine under the light. His hands are still gripping Len's jeans. When Len lets his head fall forward, overwhelmed by the feeling of Cisco's generous mouth, by the look of Cisco ruined around him, he sees Cisco's cock, still flush.

Len swears under his breath. He pulls back, not quite ready to stop, not quite disciplined enough to leave Cisco's mouth completely. “You're a filthy thing, aren't you? Maybe I - fuck, maybe I should just keep you. Not often you find a slut who can make weapons and suck it as good as you.” 

More like never, but Len keeps the genuine jolt of awe to himself. Cisco tries to pull away again, probably to tell Len to fuck off again, and Len almost lets him. He could make Cisco regret it - make Cisco do it again - but he's already spent enough time on foreplay. He fucks into Cisco's mouth deeper, faster, and watches half in fascination and half in delight as Cisco scrambles to keep up. Cisco's nails scrape down his thighs and Cisco's throat and tongue flutter to take Len's thrusts.

Len loses himself in the feeling. Cisco is easy to disappear inside; he's so soft, takes it so good, lovely and warm and full of enough anger to make the rest of the world fall away for a few sweet moments. Len has to bite his own knuckles at the end - he can silence all his noises until he's about to come, then he can't stop himself. He grunts a curse or maybe more nonsense praise, maybe Cisco's name, when he finally fills Cisco's mouth. 

The come down is quick. It's always had to be, in this line of life, but Len regrets not being able to savor the look in Cisco's eyes, not having the time to stay in Cisco's perfect mouth and make Cisco squirm with humiliated need until he's hard enough to fuck Cisco up all over again.

Once Len catches his breath, he's dropping to his own knees, crowding Cisco between the floor and the wall. He has to catch Cisco's cheeks in his fingers to hold him still enough to lick the spit and come off Cisco's still trembling tongue. Len smiles into it, squeezes harder than he needs to, and sucks on Cisco's pained, panting whine. 

Before Cisco can curse him again, Len works his hand around Cisco's dick. Cisco's anger skids into a hurting kind of moan. Len takes that, too. 

He bites at Cisco's slack, slick lips. Cisco takes it with punched little breaths, but when Len grips his dick harder, he wrenches his mouth away.

“What are you doing?” Cisco tries to shuffle back on his knees. Len grabs him by the back of the hair and pulls, hard, stilling Cisco and coaxing a sharp, hurting sound that rumbles Len deep with satisfaction. “Stop, I don't - ”

Len doesn't want to hear Cisco say he doesn't want this. The parts of his refusal that aren't a lie twist Len angry and sore inside. The part of his refusal that is a lie throbs in Len's hand and feels infinitely better, more real, more solid.

“I told you I could be nice. You were good, and good boys get rewarded.”

He pulls Cisco's hair again. Cisco doesn't resist physically, but he does curl his nose, scrambling for a bluff even as he shakes.

“Just so you know, I’m kink shaming.” He says it as if the insult - Len guesses it's an insult - would be enough to distract Len from seeing how frantically he's searching for a way out. “You're not gonna try to make me call you daddy, are you?”

Len hadn't been planning on it, but now that he's got Cisco really squirming, trying desperately not to get off on this, it's not exactly unappealing. He'd rather see if he can get Cisco to beg. He honestly isn't sure if, in the time they have, he can coax a plea to come from Cisco's ruined mouth, and the thrill of not knowing curls low in his belly.

“I could.” Len moves his hand for the first time since he wrapped it around Cisco's dick, slow and pressure light. Cisco bites his lip, chokes on the moan he's trying not to moan. “I could do anything I wanted to you right now.”

Len accentuates the words by increasing the pressure just shy of painful. Cisco does make noise then, wincing and hissing, finally opening his eyes to fix Len with his frightened wet gaze. Real pain is apparently too real, then. Len takes the information with a smooth twist of his wrist, catching Cisco off guard with pleasure.

He gets close. There's a smear of tears gathered at the corner of Cisco's eye and Len licks it clean. The salt is good and heavy on his tongue.

“I could hurt you,” Len breathes. “I could hurt you so badly, and there's nothing you could do to stop me. Or I could make you feel good. Make you come all over yourself."

Cisco gasps at that, squirming in Len's grasp. Len swallows it before asking against Cisco's mouth, “What scares you more, Cisco?”

He knows the answer. Cisco murmurs a curse and tells Len to go suck his cold gun. Laughing, purely pleased, Len maneuvers himself to deliver Cisco's fear.

“Watch me,” Len says when Cisco closes his eyes.

He waits for Cisco's glare to sizzle across his skin before spitting on the head of Cisco's cock. It twitches, and Cisco groans, a sharp sound. Len luxuriates in it. This is the kind of torture that will haunt Cisco's pretty, clever brain for years. This is what will hook into Cisco's ribs and pull them taut every time he breathes. Getting off to the mouth of a man who turned his inventions into weapons, who hurt his friends, his family, will break something in him, and it will always belong to Len.

Len sinks into the thought as he sinks down. Cisco's bound hands scramble against his shorn hair, pushing at his forehead, but there's little fight. He hollows his cheeks and Cisco's fingers slip across his scalp. Glancing up, he sees Cisco has already disobeyed, let his head fall against the wall and his eyes close. Len allows it. There's something deeply satisfying about watching Cisco's throat work, his eyes move under his lids, like he's choking on the pleasure.

It's easy to get Cisco off. Len likes it, how few tricks he has to roll across Cisco's skin to make him come, gasping and sniffling and cursing. He wants to do it again immediately. Play with Cisco while he's all soft and sore with shame.

“That was fast.” Len licks his lips, savoring the taste and the way Cisco tries to close his legs now that Len isn't between them. As if he had anything left to hide now.

“Don't flatter yourself,” Cisco says through his damp lashes and ruined mouth.

Len raises his eyebrow. “You come that easy for everyone? Here I was thinking you really liked me.”

Cisco doesn't say anything as Len pulls his own pants back up. He takes his time, soaking in the moment, before holding out his hand. Cisco eyes it warily.

Len sighs. “I'm just trying to help you get presentable. You don't wanna look so used up when your hero comes to save you.” He smirks, slow as the gaze he lets crawl over Cisco's open thighs. “Or maybe you do.”

“You're sick,” Cisco hisses, reaching for Len's hand.

“Oh come on. You can tell me. We’re close now.” Len pulls him up to stand and immediately crowds him back against the wall, nosing along Cisco's jaw to the pulse of his sweat and fear. “There must be a reason the guy lets you hang around ”

Cisco doesn't turn his head from Len’s attention. He stares straight ahead, jaw clenched. Strong. So much left for Len to break.

“We're friends. He's not like you, _Cold_.”

Laughing, Len tucks Cisco back into his jeans, buttons him up until he's shiny and new, save for the mess of his pretty face. Len knows, definitively, he's going to do this again. Find the time and place and pursue Cisco's breaking point as he's pursued a thousand other treasures he was never supposed to touch.

It shouldn't be difficult. Plucking Cisco from the safety of his life, of being friends with an actual hero, was easy enough. There will be plenty of time to scrape further into Cisco. Not now, though. Now, his attention snaps bruise like to the wider scheme.

“That so, kid?”

Len zips Cisco's jeans back up. Cisco watches him, fear shining brighter than ever. Len can't help but lick his trembling bottom lip.

“Why don't you tell me more about him? Starting with his name.”


End file.
